Poem: Bygone ways

Can it be you can breathe fire

in place of air?

Or touch the hot ice where ever it lay?

Feel the still wind against your skin,

or swim amongst the frozen water

like it all made sense?

Does the moon’s rays reach you like a fireplace 

and the sun douse out the heat of the night? 

Do mockingbirds sing of disarray

or can that all be repaired to the corners of mental grey?

Do the words sound melodious to the dead,

the colours brighter in blindness,

or the well toned muscles feel frayed?

So silly. 

So silly it is, the vanity of all that exists. 

For a moment forget, forget that you live not for you,

but for me,

the bygone ways. 

Midnight thoughts

What am I thinking about, or doing right this instance seems to be the number one focus of social media these days. Even just 10 years ago, social media only extended as far as emails and Hi5, and MySpace stuff, if anyone remembers them. And now…? Well, now, even kids as young as 8 have smart devices that has the capability to connect you to any one person in any corner of the world. Scary? Hell yes!

Imagine where all this ‘socialising’ in the most reversed introverted and self indulgent way ever known to mankind will go given another 10 years?! Think about it. Already we have the likes of Facebook, Skype, LinkedIn, Twitter, several blog hosts like WordPress and Blogger, and Instagram and Tumblr, and Flickr and what other crazy nut program there is that ensnares us into its trap. We are so connected now that statuses have literally become mini news feeds on what every single person in our orbit is doing at any given chance. Yet, it’s very sad when I observe younger generations with their faces glued to the screens even as they try and converse with one another. Pretty soon they will text one another in something that looks more like codes than language while sitting right next to each other. Where is this tech-savvy world taking humanity in its ambition to catalogue every person’s life?

Why am I rambling about such things? Well, our privacy for one matter. It used to be something prized once upon a time, and now we have our information suspended in ‘clouds’ able to be retrieved from anywhere and by any one who knows what they are doing? We are getting people from other side of the world call up trying to sell insurance or what not with enough of your details to make you really consider who else and how many people, who are complete strangers, have access to your details. And why?

There is a new low. Especially with our contact details being sold off by companies etc. The other day, a telemarketer from South-east Asia called up telling me that they are from the motor insurance company and that their ‘records’ show that someone in my family has been in an accident! Truly? TRULY?!

What is the world coming to? Is that the new tactics of sales now? Hijack people’s information, harass them, and try and manipulate their emotions to get their money? I use ‘harass’ because when one sales person got told off for poor tactics and callous approach, another rose its head like a monster and tried the same approach. 5 calls in one week! Lets just say it was very appalling behaviour and got me truly thinking what a world it will be in another decade where humanity will be snuffed out of society and we will no longer rebel, nor put a fight, but accept such behaviour.

My stance with these horrid people was to ask them how they would feel if I was the one calling and telling them that their loved one(s) are hurt?! You know the answer I got mostly? Fumbling, bumbling idiots who couldn’t answer the question and hung up. That’s right, hung up!

So, next time you pick up that phone and its a telemarketer on the other side just as your about to eat dinner, or worse yet, at 10:30 pm at night as you slip into bed (and yes, that’s happened), don’t dare tolerate a rude, insensitive and callous idiot on the other side, because to them, you are simply a number.

Be wise. Never hand out your details to anything or anyone. And better yet, be careful the questions you answer. And with that thought, goodnight!

Writing: FYI Writers have the most trouble writing of anyone!

Well, before I dig into this piece, I’d just like to express your surprise which no doubt peaked your interest in this particular post. ‘What the?!’, ‘How’s that possible?’, ‘Absurd!’, ‘Don’t be silly. Why would writers have trouble writing?!’

Yes, laugh at the idea, but this idea isn’t just mine but shared by a lot more people than one tinny-tiny Nepali writer and a naturalized Aussie (a.k.a, me!)


Thomas Mann pinned that donkey’s tail quite accurately. I confess! I have a lot of difficulty writing. It’s not just the act of writing that is painful but all the aftermath, the emotions that are hard to handle, the anguish whether you did it well, how it will be perceived etc.

Think about it. A writer lives in the story realm for a very lengthy process: from inception of story, to character development, story development, writing process, countless editing process, and then the final draft! No one else, not the reader, nor actors of screenplay/plays etc. spend as much time being the character as much as the writer. Nope. No one but the writer knows that character, and ALL other characters, their motives and drive in a single story in such depth. In fact, I think I’m safe in telling you all that when these characters are written in stories, writers ‘become’ the characters. We don’t just understand the characters and try and portray them as an actor would, but for the duration of the writing process, we are the characters of stories, telling ‘our’ story. We see, feel, say, touch, taste everything the character does in that time we are them – or at least it feels very real, every situation they are in.

Now, go back to Mann’s statement; that writers have the most trouble writing. Can you not see why this is now? We are not only being the people who the stories are about, but we also have to learn to separate ourselves in an odd way simultaneously so than we may be able to jot down the story as we ‘play’ it. Then, to add more weight to this task, we have to constantly be aware of the POV of the story: whether first person, third/omnipresent, and the structure of the language, words and their meanings etc.

It’s all a lot to handle. No wonder sometimes the question ‘How do you write?’ gets asked, and I guess we will all tell you, we do not know how. All we know is that it is ‘one word at a time’ like Stephen King once noted. One word at a time; for our mental capacity is already so preoccupied with a hell of a lot more that is going on than on the actual ‘task’ of writing.

When I write, I’m not apart of the writing to be able to pause and look on what I’ve done so far. That tasks comes when we take a haitus from a story and need to jog our memory. No. When I write, my main trouble is in the story and how it may be unfolding.

After all the writing and editing comes the hardest thing I have to do; release the story with excitement and apprehension.

Will it do well? Won’t it? Will it read well or won’t it? Will they (the readers) feel the characters, be in their head, or won’t they?

Will they like me, or won’t they?

Yep. At the end of it all, the main reason we struggle to write reveals itself: me! The idea that the author invests so much time on their characters that it is said, (and I wholly agree) that each character possesses something of the author, they are the author. And who wouldn’t be nervous being scrutinized by readers such?

Not me. Hell, I’m even a tad nervous every time I post something or other in this blog. Why? Anxiety. Did you like it, or not? And that is the naked truth!

This is Life

Come close
I’ll tell you a little secret
about life
the strange and the beautiful
the joys and the pain
that cripples
till you double up
in laughter or in tears
and it takes no mercy
no favors in light
whether you love it or despise
it will move on
move you on
through forest greens
or grass dry and thorny
or the parching deserts that relentlessly stares
you down to the bone
and asks
‘What brings you?’
till the voice fades on its echo
and you no longer know
that life has brought you
full circle
to realise just how far you’ve come.

There, that is it,
and lackluster.
This is life
singing its beat
from beginning to an end
no rhythm
no words
no street signs
just a beat
your two feet
and the ground beneath.

This is life.

Filamented Dreams

Might I ask a question
that weighs heavy on this mind,
what are thoughts
if not tangible, wonderful
filamented dreams.

Must Write

She sits by the window
beneath thin blanket
feeling the wind barge in through the open window
watching the curtain flutter,
and the trees thrash their arms about
and wonders when she might get out
into nature and stir the clouds?!
Then she takes a breath
deep and rich
and turns upon papers clean.
With the wind’s chill waking her soul
she picks up her pen and scrolls
faster and messier
the images tumble through her mind
dialogues and characters changing
faces and voices morphing
and she laughs quietly
that a little bit of nature has inspired
the walls to turn to smoke
and she writes, the tale she had struggled with
and now and again
she glances outside
to the promise of sunshine
upon writing ‘The End’ for once
and thus feels tempted to try
and win that freedom to rejoice.
So she writes with the beckoning wind in her hair
and the land outside.
Soon – but for now, must write.

I & You

am simple
I am
thought provoking
I am thought
that meddles the mind
I am thought that
resides longer within
I am thought that resides
however long I need to convince
I am thought that resides however
behind the curtain of care
I am thought that resides however behind
a smile that spreads across faces
I am thought that resides however behind a smile
that provokes a thought in the other who may wonder why.

Amongst an array of human emotions
amongst an array of human
amongst an array

I am simple.
A thought
within you.
I am You!

(A few weeks ago, I read a blog for the like of me I can’t remember who it belonged to, but the point is, they were writing poetry with one sentence/line they then removed the last word per line till they ended up with one word at the end. I found it very fascinating and had wanted to try it out. So here is my version, rather than removing one word per line, I’ve tried to add the leading word from previous line. I also felt I needed to tie the end off so tried a mirror structure with the latter half where I remove one word or so per line. How do you like it? Share some thoughts.)